Life in the Fast Lane
by buffett-head
Summary: Alcohol, bowling, and a little conversation between the Tostigs.


**Disclaimer: **As always, no profit whatsoever.

**A/N:** Through a series of unfortunate events, I missed the entire 3rd season of psych and haven't been able to watch any of it online. Luckily, it's on DVD now so I'll be able to fix that soon enough. In the meantime, I found a few stories set in the 2nd season hiding on my hard drive. These will complete an arc of one-shots I had written for the 2nd season, which means they are officially AU now but I think they still fit into the scheme of the psych universe. There are four--maybe five--short stories left to the arc, including this one.

**Setting: **Takes place after Rob-a-Bye, Baby but before Bounty Hunters.

Bowling is not my strongsuit, so please forgive me if what I came up with is unrealistic. But I did watch it on The Ocho for a couple hours...

* * *

**"You, I'm waiting for you.  
You, you set my desire.  
I trip through your wires, yeah"  
U2, 'Trip through Your Wires'**

Shawn lined his toes up against the little arrows on the floor. He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and stepped forward. He kicked his right leg out behind him and flicked his wrist as he threw the ball down the lane. The ball traveled in a lazy arc before striking just off-center, knocking down seven of the ten pins. Three remained standing close together on the left side of the lane. Shawn grimaced in frustration and walked back to the small table to pick up his beer. _God, I wish I didn't suck at bowling. _He looked up at the screen above his lane and read the score to himself. _A hundred and eight in the sixth frame. I really blew this game._

He took a sip, set the bottle down, and lined up to take a shot at a spare. _Easy enough, _he thought,_ Cheat to the left, no spin on the ball, just a straight shot._ He released the ball and smiled to himself when all three pins went down. _Much better, _He went back to his table while the machine reset the pins. His bottle was nearly empty, so he finished it off. _Okay, concentrate._ He told himself. _Finish strong._

He didn't leave a single open frame for the rest of the game, but his poor start brought him down. He went back to the food counter and ordered another beer and a plate of nachos to go with. There were plenty of open lanes—it was only Thursday night—so he sat back down at his table and took his time eating, critiquing his performance as he nursed his beer. This had been his third game of the night, and by far his worst. Gus had bowled the first game with him, and then they got a couple drinks. But Gus left soon after that because he needed to go in early for his other job. _Well, I'll bowl at least one more; maybe two if I'm feeling good._ He stole a small sip from his bottle, wiped the nacho cheese mess on his jeans, and stood up to begin another game.

* * *

He noticed her just before the third frame, though she must have come in sooner because she was sitting in a booth between the arcade games and him. That part of the alley was dim and the glittering lights of the video games produced a spectral, dreamlike effect. He only caught momentary flashes of her, and at first he berated himself for imagining things. But every time the pinball machine lit up, he could see her profile covertly watching. She sat right behind his lane, occasionally bringing her drink to her lips. She was so close he could've called out to her; he would barely have to raise his voice except to be heard over the music playing from the speakers built into the ceiling. He wondered why she was here, tonight of all nights. Was she just relaxing? Waiting for someone?

His speculation broke his concentration, causing him to miss an easy spare. He cursed in a low voice and closed his eyes in embarrassment. _Awesome, now she knows I suck at bowling._ He took an angry pull at his beer and let out a large sigh. _Just don't blow this game like you did the last,_ he berated himself as he stepped up to the line again.

Miraculously, he didn't blow it. He looked up at the score, one ninety-eight, and sat back down at his table. The crowd was clustered on the other side of the building, near the cantina. There were two boys playing that Miami Vice style shoot-'em-up game, but they were too wrapped up in it to notice anything going on around them. Without turning around he called to her, "Jules, I think my cheer section is supposed to—well, you know—cheer after I finish the game."

He heard shuffling and turned around to see her walking to his table with her drink in her hand. "Hello Mr. Tostig." She said with the hint of a smile.

He couldn't keep his eyes from roaming. She wore a snug, faded pair of Levi's that flared out over her shoes and a small blue tee shirt that hugged her in all the right places. "Mrs. Tostig, you look lovely tonight." He smiled back and waved an arm at the seat next to him on the left. "Pull up a chair, there's no reason to be alone."

She glanced at his table and hesitated before finally sitting. "So when did the spirits tell you I was here?" She teased.

Shawn shook his head, "Jules, you just don't get it." He chuckled to himself.

"Get what?" She set her drink down and furrowed her eyebrows.

Shawn blinked—he didn't realize he had said that out loud. "It's not like the spirit world is my own personal alarm system." He covered himself. A quick glance at her glass told him that she was drinking a soda, not alcohol.

"No, of course not." Juliet placated in a sweet voice. "That would be Star Tek."

"Okay, now you're making fun of me." Shawn said.

"I just think you're crazy."

"Says the girl who helps interpret my visions."

Juliet shook her head, "Fair enough, we're two peas in a pod." She watched as Shawn wrinkled his brow. "And speaking of your visions, I didn't know you were an Elton John fan."

Shawn chuckled and leaned forward on the table so they were closer. "It was on the radio just before Gus dropped me at the Psych office. I figured since I'd made the papers a few times I would need a cover I.D. I would've gone with James Crockett but I didn't think they'd believe I settled down."

"You've got the scruff." Juliet said. "But Levon Tostig?"

"I just thought no one would get it." Shawn answered. "But you did—_that's_ why you're the detective." He pointed a finger at her.

"Yeah, well. I'm glad you were there. You know, to help." She glanced over her shoulder when the two kids playing the video game yelled out. Juliet's eyes flicked back to the bottles lined up on his table. "Shawn, what are you doing here?"

"I thought it was fairly obvious." Shawn threw a hand in the direction of the bowling lanes.

Juliet raised her eyebrows in an expression that clearly told him to elaborate.

"Okay…I'm practicing." Shawn said. "My, uh, sponsorship with Lego fell through. Unlimited technology from the entire Lego universe and they couldn't make a comfortable shoe." He tried to sound casual. "So now I'm pursuing…alternative sources." He glanced away for a second.

"Well, I'm sure someone will take you—you bowled a really good game just now." Juliet said.

"Surprised you, didn't I?" Shawn asked with a knowing smile. "I bet you thought I couldn't bowl without the kiddy-bumpers."

"I admit it." Juliet answered. "You surprised me. Where's your coach tonight?"

"I'm self-taught." Shawn said proudly.

"Really?" Juliet's doubt was obvious.

"Well, not one hundred percent." Shawn admitted. "I did watch bowling on ESPN Classic for a couple of hours. It really helped."

"I suppose the beer did too." Juliet added sarcastically.

Shawn made a face. "First of all, I have a plan. And second, they've been spread out over…" he glanced at his watch. "Two hours and twenty-one minutes." He looked a second time, "It's ten seventeen already?"

"Inability to account for long periods of time…" Juliet spoke in a monotone voice, as if she were reading from a manual.

"Very funny, Jules." Shawn deadpanned.

"You don't think that six beers would at least put a dent in your sobriety?" She asked.

"They're not all mine."

"No?"

"Gus had that one." Shawn pointed to a bottle in the middle of the table.

Juliet leaned over and picked it up, and then swirled it gently. "It's still half full."

"Figures," Shawn said. "He had some conference call or meeting at his pharmaceutical job." He smiled to himself and continued. "I told him if one beer is all he can handle then he's got a lot more to worry about than selling drugs."

"But five—"

"Nah-ah," Shawn shook his head. "Almost five." He brought the most recent bottle to his lips and turned it upside down. "_Now_ it's five." He said as he set the bottle back in line.

Juliet put her bottle down, "And that's…?"

"Respectable." Shawn said. "And remember, they're spread out," his hands got farther and farther apart and Juliet was reminded of her father telling fishing stories. "So it's not really that bad."

"Sure." She said in a disbelieving tone.

He sat up excitedly. "No, really! You should've been with me this one time in Mexico. I was in this bar—and one thing led to another and the next thing I know I'm taking shots with this very large Irish ex-pat. I don't even know why—but there we are shooting tequila toppers faster than the seniorita can bring 'em out. And then I said something about a sunburned bald guy who had a red head. But Ole' Irish thought I said something about his sister, who had red _hair_. All the sudden the table goes flying, my chair flips out from under me, and I'm dodging shot glasses in a desperate attempt to get out the door. The next thing I know? The sun is high in the sky, I'm chewing on sand, and the surf is breaking about ten feet away."

"Amazing." Juliet manages to keep a straight face.

"It sounds like more fun than it was."

"And where was Gus during all this?"

Shawn quieted down, "He wasn't there. I was, uh, on hiatus from my California life at the time."

"Ah," Juliet nodded, aware that they had stumbled onto a sensitive topic.

"Hey, let me buy you a drink." Shawn said suddenly.

Juliet looked into his eyes. "No, I don't think—"

"Oh, come on Jules. If I'm going to crank call Lassy at midnight then I'll need to keep my courage up." Shawn smiled and waggled his eyebrows. "I'll get some more nachos if you want."

"Well, if there are nachos involved." Jules replied cheekily.

"Awesome!" Shawn stood up. "What do you want? Ooh, something classy—a martini? Cosmopolitan? You know, I don't think they serve those here—"

"A beer is fine." Juliet told him.

"Sure thing."

She watched him spin around and take two mostly steady steps toward the cantina before deciding to help. She quickly caught up and they fell in step.

"It's okay Jules, I got it." Shawn told her. "You can go sit down."

She smiled, "I've been sitting most of the day. I need to stretch my legs."

Shawn looked her up and down before saying, "They look good to me." He stuttered under Juliet's surprised expression. "I, uh, I was just making a joke. I didn't mean anything by it."

"I know." Juliet assured him.

They reached the line for the snack bar and stood together quietly. The music was much louder and the crowd buzzed around them. She didn't know the song, but it was definitely from the eighties. _The bad part of the eighties,_ she thought to herself. _Enough with the synthesizer, already!_ "This music is awful." She said.

"What?" Shawn asked.

She leaned close to him and raised her voice, "I said this music is awful!" She watched as relief appeared on his face.

"Thank God you agree." He chuckled a little. "This stuff makes Herbie Hancock seem understated."

Juliet laughed at that. "You are such a nerd."

Shawn looked indignant, "I am not." The line was moving fast and they took another step forward. "I'm cultured."

"Whatever makes you feel better…" Juliet trailed off with a smile.

Shawn scoffed at that and took another step forward. The older man behind the counter recognized him. "Back again?"

"Let me get a couple beers and another plate of nachos."

"Two beers?"

Shawn leaned on the counter, "One's for her." He sort of motioned to Juliet, who was standing beside him.

The man studied her for a moment and asked Shawn, "You fishin' in the little pond?"

"What?" Shawn asked.

"I'm going to have to card your girl." He said.

Shawn sputtered. "She's not—"

"Shawn, it's okay." Juliet pulled her driver's license from her pocket and handed it to the man.

He picked at a corner, grinned at her, and then handed it back. "Thank you, ma'am." He fished two beers from the icebox and twisted the caps off before turning to get the nachos.

"No one's thought I'm underage in a couple years." Juliet said to Shawn.

"He just likes to tease—I've watched him do that all night." Shawn told her. "Well, to the cute girls, anyways," He amended.

Juliet closed her eyes and smiled at that. The man came back with the nachos, and Shawn handed over the money. She picked up the nachos and Shawn took their drinks. They sat back down at the table Shawn had been using all night. He stole a nacho and she took her beer from his hand.

She spoke up, "Here's to friends."

Shawn clinked his bottle against hers, "And to bowling."

"Bowling?"

"This is the second time we've met in a bowling alley. It's like, a pattern or something." Shawn reasoned.

Juliet studied him and realized the alcohol was affecting him more than he let on. "I think you might want to take it easy." She suggested.

"I think…I'll bowl one more game." Shawn changed the topic. "You want to play? Lose the frame and you have to take a swig of beer."

"Why not?" Juliet agreed.

Shawn grinned. "Better watch it—I'm feeling pretty good tonight."

"Then you go first, hot shot." Juliet told him. "Set up the computer while I find a ball."

He smirked, "I've got b—never mind."

"What was that?" Juliet turned around.

"Nothing—it was _way _inappropriate." Shawn looked sheepish.

"Shawn!" Juliet smiled as she scolded him.

"Sorry!" Shawn called after her as she went to pick out a bowling ball and shoes. He ate a couple chips before he entered her name on the computer screen. He was lining up for the shot when he heard her tease, "Just remember the first frame sets the tone for the entire game."

"No pressure, huh?" Shawn muttered. He threw the ball hard and knocked down eight pins. "Ha! How's that?" He asked smugly. Juliet shot him a glare. He knocked down the remaining two pins—just barely—and walked back to the table. "Beat that." He challenged.

Juliet finished tying her bowling shoes, "Watch me." She stood up.

"Whoa, whoa!" Shawn yelled dramatically. "I think we need to level the playing field a little. Now I've been drinking all night, so I think it's only fair that you have to take a swig before you start. You know, lube your synapses and everything."

"You said it's not that bad." Juliet argued.

"You seemed to disagree earlier." Shawn countered.

"Fine," Juliet gave in. _It's not like one swig is even going to make a difference._ She took a long drink and set her beer down. "Good enough?"

"Eahhh, that'll do." Shawn shrugged his shoulders.

Juliet breathed in deep and took her shot, but in the end more were standing than had been knocked down. She pursed her lips in frustration.

She heard Shawn taunt, "Ooh, too bad."

She did better on her spare shot, but still left two pins up. Shawn was holding her beer out for her when she came back. "Good try," He said.

"I'll get better," She told him. "I'm a good finisher."

"What a coincidence," he smiled. "I've always been a starter."

They alternated frames after that, and Juliet was having fun. So what if she let that man at the counter think they were together? She ignored the other people who watched them shout and laugh. She pretended to forget that she should be in early tomorrow for a short training seminar. It was going to be repeated again in the afternoon for the late shift. She could just skip her lunch and catch it then. But as the frames progressed she began to suspect that Shawn was throwing the game. She studied him for several shots and noticed that as his score followed a downward trend, he was lining up farther and farther to the left. By the tenth frame he was nearly in the next lane over. "Why do you keep scooting to the left?" She asked.

"Because," he answered as if it were obvious.

"Because why?"

But he was concentrating hard and didn't answer. He missed wide right, only downed a few pins, and grumbled to himself. Then he spoke up, "I have a slice."

"You have a slice?"

"Yeah," his hand arced out and to the right. "I have a right hand curve that apparently increases in proportion to my blood alcohol level."

"I'm pretty sure 'slice' is a golf term." Juliet said.

"Oh, my golf shot slices too. It's part of why I'm banned from the country club." He grinned. He threw his spare shot and missed. "Well, crap. I think it's safe to say you'll win this frame."

She ignored that; she'd been watching him. "I can tell you why you've got a slice," she said.

"And why is that?" He looked intrigued.

"You've got no follow through."

Shawn scoffed. "Have you been talking to my dad?"

"What?" Juliet asked. _Where's this coming from?_

"He's been telling me that for twenty years. I know what's wrong; the problem is how to fix it." Shawn said in a sour voice.

"Shawn." Juliet said softly.

"You and my dad should get together and critique my bowling." He chuckled bitterly, still standing in the lane approach.

She pushed herself up from the table she was leaning against and walked to him. "I'm just talking about your shot, nothing else."

He wouldn't look at her, but she saw he wore a somber smile, "Yeah, I know." He finally answered.

"Look," She said. "You keep stopping your armswing below your waist." She took hold of his hand and mimicked his last shot. "You need to keep moving," She pulled his hand higher until it was nearly shoulder level. "All the way to here." She gently swung his arm back and forth a couple times more before she let it drop. "It's just a suggestion—something to work on."

"Thanks," Shawn said. He cleared his throat and took a couple of awkward steps back, "Okay, finish this game and put me out of my misery."

"Watch me." She told him as she picked up her ball.

Shawn watched as she took a deep breath. She moved a little slower than she had the previous frame, and _oh man_ did she accentuate her every movement.

"Did you see?" She asked as she turned around.

_Oh yeah…_ "Wha?"

"Shawn, did you pay any attention?"

"Yeah," Shawn answered with a hangdog expression.

"Did you pay attention to the _bowling_, Shawn?" She chided.

"Sort of—I'm sure if you demonstrate one more time I'll catch on." Shawn said with a flirtatious grin.

She brought her hands to her hips and tried to look severe, but as soon as she began to reprimand him she cracked a smile. "Shawn," She looked away and laughed. She took a deep breath and spoke again. "I'll let that go since you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk." Shawn responded automatically. He teeter-tottered before regaining his balance and said, "I am going to sit down, though. Maybe then the room will stop spinning." After a couple steps he said over his shoulder, "But don't worry, I'll be paying attention."

Juliet shook her head and took her time making the shot. She easily beat Shawn and faced him with a victorious smile. "Drink it up!"

Shawn raised his beer to her and then took a long draught. "Good game." He told her as she sat down.

She drank from her own beer and set it back on the table. She watched Shawn a moment; he was twisting his bottle back and forth and staring hard at it. "What's the matter?" She asked.

One final sip emptied Shawn's bottle, "Can I tell you something?" He started.

"Sure." Juliet said. She still had half a beer left, and it rippled when Shawn clunked his bottle down on the table.

"You know I can't get James Taylor out of my head?" Shawn asked her with an ironic smile.

"No?" Juliet was a little confused.

"It's true. For the last couple days he's just been sort of swirling around up there. And every time I get a free moment he pops back up."

Now Juliet remembered, "I'm sorry." She smiled in embarrassment.

"The weird part is I don't even mind." Shawn said. "I mean, you think it would be driving me nuts, but it doesn't. What does that mean?"

"Shawn…" She wasn't sure what it meant.

He was studying her with this puzzled expression, and she felt her cheeks turn pink. She took a deep breath and said, "It, uh, it wasn't an accident that we bumped into each other tonight." She wished she could've sounded more sure of herself.

"It was fate." Shawn finished theatrically.

"It was a little more than that," Juliet admitted.

"Really?" Shawn's interest was piqued. "How much more?"

Juliet could only smile coyly.

Shawn sat back, "You want to know why I'm here?" He sounded dispirited.

"Why?"

"You said bowling was a deal-breaker. I was never in line for a Lego sponsorship—I'm sure you know that. I've never even been in a bowling league."

Juliet ducked her head to hide her smile. "Shawn, I only said that about bowling because I saw how horrible you were."

He crinkled his brows and she can't help but think he looked like he just found out he was the butt of a practical joke. Then he said in a frustrated tone, "I can't figure you out! You. And your…you!" Shawn waved a hand in the air as if it explained everything.

"I see." Juliet nodded her head slowly. "Care to try that again?"

"I don't think you believe those things you told me." Shawn said.

"What things?" Juliet tried to recall the last few days, but they had spent so much time together…

"Those things about marriage." Shawn clarified.

"Oh,"_ those things. _Of course he would remember her little feminist rant.

"I just don't understand. I mean, I thought your parents were great—totally in love."

"They are." Juliet defended. "They mean everything to each other."

"So unless they've entered this crazy parallel universe and turned into _my parents_, and you've suddenly become an Emmy-worthy actress and kept everything under wraps, why would a sweet girl like you hate marriage?" Shawn leaned forward again and seemed genuinely interested.

"I don't hate marriage." Juliet told him.

"Just love, then." Shawn baited her with an acerbic smile.

"I don't…gah!" Juliet huffed at him. "You're just being difficult!"

"Relax, Jules." Shawn said cynically. "Everyone's got a right to their own opinions."

She was left scrambling for an answer and hated him for it. "You have no idea what my opinions are." _He's so volatile tonight._

"Let me guess," Shawn closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

"Oh, another psychic breakthrough?" Juliet asked sarcastically.

Shawn opened his eyes, "No, got a headache." When Juliet didn't say anything else he continued. "You spent way too much time going on and on _and on_ about wedding details so there's no way you just made them up or even told me about a wedding you went to—you've been planning yours since you were a little girl. I think you want to be married, aside from that whole viewing the wife as property thing." Shawn dismissed the abhorrent thought with a flick of his hand. "And I'm pretty sure you made up that home birth story just to freak me out—good job by the way."

Juliet just stared at him.

"But that's okay. In fact, I think your little plan backfired." Shawn said. "Because the whole time we pretended to be together I was wondering if all the craziness would be what I'd have to live through if we really _were_ together. And you know what? I could deal with it. I wouldn't mind one bit."

She was positive that he was completely drunk—he'd never been this bold before. He'd never actually been _serious_ about their…situation before. "Shawn, you're not thinking clearly."

"Yes I am." Shawn said. "I've tried to respect your wishes about inter-office dating 'cause it seems like a sensitive topic. But guess what? You don't have an office—you have a desk. And my office isn't even in the same building. Psych's like three blocks away!" He finished in an exasperated tone.

She'd been avoiding this conversation with him since the speed dating case. Juliet glanced at her watch—it was after eleven thirty. "Shawn…"

"You _fascinate_ me!" Shawn spoke up and their eyes locked. "I—I don't even know where to begin." He closed his eyes and put his hand to his forehead again, and she realized he really did have a headache. "And it's driving me crazy. Look, you don't have to explain anything. Like I said earlier—I know what my problem is. But give me a little credit, I mean I did learn how to bowl!"

"Yes, you did." Juliet agreed.

"Isn't that worth _something_?"

She reached out and laid a hand on his arm. "Maybe we should finish this conversation later? Your headache looks pretty bad."

Her words took a few seconds to sink in. He finally said, "Yeah, it hurts a lot."

"Okay, then." Juliet stood up. "Change out of your bowling shoes and we can leave."

Shawn sighed heavily, "Alright," he leaned over—barely able to keep himself from falling out of the chair—and started pulling at the laces of his shoes. Juliet picked up their street shoes and brought Shawn's pair to him. He slipped them on without tying them, and sat until Juliet was ready.

"Come on, Shawn." She called to him, and he stood up. He was lucid enough to be able to pay for the bowling, but weaved back and forth on his way to the door. When they got outside Juliet stopped him. "You want me to wait with you until someone comes to get you?"

"Nahh," Shawn reached into his pocket and pulled out his keyes.

"Shawn, you are not driving anywhere!" She yelled in surprise.

"What? Oh, no. You've got it all wrong. I'm just going to crash at the Psych office tonight. It's like a ten minute walk from here." He started down the sidewalk

"Shawn!" Juliet grabbed his hand and pulled him towards her. _He's going to get hit by a car if I don't keep him close._

"Hey," Shawn smiled at her. "You smell pretty. Like flowers."

Juliet ignored his stare, "I thought you had a plan?" she questioned.

"Um, yeah: drink all night, then walk to Psych." He smiled drunkenly. "Hey, that kind of rhymed."

"That's not a plan." Juliet admonished.

"Sure it is."

"That's not a good plan." Juliet told him.

"You got me." Shawn raised his hands in surrender.

"Well, I'm not going to let you walk down the middle of the street at night." She let out an exasperated sigh and shook her head. "Let me give you a ride."

"Okay." Shawn agreed.

He was quiet the entire five minutes they were in the car. Juliet walked with him to the door, and as he unlocked it he said, "Thanks for the ride." He turned on the light and winced a little. "Can I get you anything? Water? Aspirin?" He opened a cabinet and pulled out a cup.

"No, that's okay." Juliet said. She leaned against the wall near the door. "Why did you want to come here instead of going back to your apartment?"

"I have to be here anyways for work." Shawn said. "You can stay if you're tired. The couch folds out." She crossed her arms and he changed his tune. "Or I could sleep in my chair…"

"I'll be fine." Juliet assured him. "It's you I'm worried about." Shawn just smiled and washed down a couple of pills. "Are you going to be alright tonight?" She asked.

"Yeah, just fine." Shawn said. "Thanks again for the ride." He collapsed onto the couch and his eyes fought to stay open.

"Goodnight Shawn." Juliet said.

"G'night." Shawn answered sleepily. His eyes were closed before she turned to leave.

* * *

It was close to one o'clock in the afternoon when her cell rang. The caller I.D. read 'Shawn' and she laughed quietly to herself as she answered. "Hello?"

"Jules?" His voice was groggy.

"Hey Shawn, how are you?"

"Not so hot." He sounded disoriented. "So, um, you gave me a ride to the office last night right?"

"Yes I did."

"Okay, that mystery is solved." There was shuffling on his end of the line. "Did you write a note to Gus?"

"I might have." She couldn't keep the smile out of her voice.

"The one that says…" she heard paper rustling and then Shawn read it back to her. "Dear Gus—please take care of Shawn. He had a rough night. Thanks for the help."

"That was me." She admitted.

"Well it didn't do any good. He's been making fun of me since I woke up."

"And how long ago was that?"

"About five minutes." Shawn told her. "How are you today?"

"Doing fine." Juliet said, "I've got a training seminar this afternoon so I'll have to stay a little late today."

"Bummer." Shawn sympathized before he said, "Juliet, maybe I don't remember every single syllable, but I got a basic idea of what happened last night. I… I'm sorry for getting drunk and stupid. And thanks for putting up with me."

Juliet sighed dramatically into her cell. "I forgive you," she told him.

"Thanks." He sounded relieved. "I promise next time I won't get so out of control."

"Next time?"

"Um, if we happen to meet at a bowling alley again."

"Whatever you say." Juliet chuckled.

"Sure. Um, I should probably get to work soon. I'll talk to you later?" Shawn asked.

"Mmm-hmm, later."

"Goodbye, Jules."

"Bye, Shawn."

* * *

**I personally can't wait for a drunken Shules scene.**


End file.
